A Box of Dirty Letters
by n4trix
Summary: He swallowed deeply and managed to grunt out a simple “take them home, read them at home”... Written for the Geekfiction Smutathon 2007. Mature themes, but nothing overly graphic.


**Title:** A Box of Dirty Letters  
**Rating:** Adult  
**Pairing:** GSR  
**Summary:** What if Grissom wrote more than one letter to Sara during his sabbatical…  
**A/N:** Thanks to **Gibby** for the idea, one of which I lovingly yoinked from her. I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but it could be close. Thanks to **LosingInTranslation** for the quick read-through and beta. This fic was written for the **Geekfiction Smut-a-thon 2007** and titles are not my strong suit.

Sara was confused when she was handed the box of unsent letters, and it showed. Her questioning gaze penetrated through Grissom's resolve, and it was all he could do not to further explain the purpose of his act right there in the lab's hallway. He swallowed deeply and managed to grunt out a simple "take them home, read them _at home_" before he turned around, sidled up to a passing Nick, and began asking him about his overtime slips.

So she did just that. The box was like a hundred dollar bill, burning a hole in her pocket—it was all _she_ could do not to succumb to her curiosity and open them before she got home. But she waited, and truth be told, the wait was well worth it.

Though the letters were in various states of being addressed, they all had one consistent characteristic: they were all dated. She began chronologically, with the first letter.

_Sara,  
Our parting was awkward. I don't know why I find it so difficult to express my feelings for you…_

It continued on and he even transcribed a sonnet. The whole gesture brought moisture to her eyes as she realized that he didn't run off to Massachusetts and forgot her, but that he really did think of her and he wasn't oblivious to how his abrupt departure left her feeling.

She moved onto the next letter, finding much of the same sentiment, but spoken through a different dead poet's words. She read the next letter, absorbing every beautifully scrawled word but couldn't help feeling even more confused. Why hadn't he sent these? Did he ever mean to send them at all?

As she moved on to the next couple letters, she noticed a steadily growing trend starting to build from after he'd been at Williams for two weeks. Though each letter expressed a genuine concern for their parting, the sentiment afterwards grew more… intimate. She wasn't really sure if even that was the right word. After all, "intimate" can be very loving and sensual. No, that word wouldn't work at all. These letters were becoming… _dirty_.

Sara began to skim the first parts of each letter, knowing the same awkward parting message existed, and moved directly to where the… _dirty_ words began. She couldn't help but blush when she read his words. The same script he used to transcribe sonnets and words of longing now outlined acts and desires she'd only ever dreamed of doing or hearing from him.

Each passage was read carefully; her eyes made love to the words just as the words made love to the paper. Except, by week four, the words were way past making love.

…_take my tongue and slide it between your slick folds, diving deep into your heat…_

…_the Denali and fuck you right there on the hood, in the lab parking lot…_

…_suck me off while I finger-fuck you and make you scream my name…_

She fanned herself with a couple of the envelopes. There was something so very feral within his words, something of which she'd never seen. Throughout their short relationship, Gil had always been very reserved. The sex wasn't at all vanilla, he was a skilled lover, but the leap from sensual to primal had never been made.

Placing the letters back into the box, she sighed. Something was still missing, something that could have helped her move past the anger and hurt and abandonment he made her feel by leaving. "I miss you" wasn't enough. She didn't want to feel petty, but was a simple "Love, Gil" too difficult for him to write? There were no declarations of love… just pseudo-apologies, poems and entomologist erotica.

She flipped open her cell phone and dialed his number. Pacing in her living room, she listed to it ring once before it went to voicemail. "Hi Griss--… Gil. It's me. I know you're out of cell range right now and… well it isn't important, so don't worry. Just… can you come over to my place when you get back to civilization? I think we need to talk… it isn't bad, I mean… well maybe it is. I just… I think I'm over talking. Just come over…please." And she hung up.

----

It was hours later when she heard the tentative knock on her apartment door. Getting up from her couch, she smoothed her hair down as she walked to the door. The look in his eyes was different than earlier that day – he looked frightened.

"Come in."

He strode past her, instantly noticing the different décor and organization of her apartment. "You redecorated."

"I did."

"Why?" he asked quietly, still observing his surroundings.

"I was spending more time here… while you were gone. It didn't seem fair that I live in such a sparse environment," she paused and waited for him to acknowledge her. When he continued to gaze at her apartment, she continued on, "I started moving things back here after you left."

"Why didn't you stay at home?" He was hurt and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Because it wasn't home, Gil. It was a shared place, somewhere that reminded me of you. I was surrounded by _you_ but _you_ weren't there. I couldn't stay… not while you were gone." She couldn't keep the betrayal out of her voice. "You weren't there…" she whispered, her voice choked by emotion.

He turned sharply and was in front of her before she could protest. He brought his hands up to cup her delicate face. The gesture was endearing to both of them, and after long weeks, they'd finally touched each other. With his thumb, he gently wiped a tear from her cheek, stroking her face slowly. His hands made their way to the back of her head and his fingers wove into her hair as he descended upon her lips for the first time in a month. Her lips were unyielding and he could sense the apprehension she was attempting to conceal. He drew back a fraction of an inch, his lips hovering over hers as he took a moment to absorb her scent and taste. "I shouldn't have left… not the way I did. I hurt you," he breathed against her and paused. "I hurt us."

"No," she whispered, eyes closed. "You needed to go. You needed to fix _here_," she accented the word with her hand, running it up along his forehead and down to his neck, "before you could fix _here_." She moved her hand down to his chest and splayed her fingers over his heart.

He sighed. "I never thought it needed to be fixed, Sara. For the first time in my life, I feel _alive_… and I have you to thank for that."

Her eyes were still sealed shut and it was obvious she was trying to maintain her composure. But again, a lone tear escaped and made its way down her slightly flushed cheek.

"Sara, honey… I _love_ you." With that, her eyelids fluttered open to reveal glassy pools of brown. "I think I always have… I've always felt it. And I'm sorry it took me leaving you for a month before I could actually _tell_ you… but I do."

She stared for a moment, silently basking in his words, his gaze. Slowly her forehead found his shoulder to rest upon it and her nose found the crook of his neck. Deeply breathing him in, she sighed. The words she yearned to hear and to read had finally been said.

In a half-plea, half-demand she whispered against his neck, "Say it again."

"_I love you._" It was liberating, so liberating.

Her hand gripped the shirt over his heart. "Again."

He moved his hands to cup her head behind her ears and brought her back to eye-level. Focusing her attention on him, only him, he repeated himself for the third time, "I _love_ you, Sara." Her resolve was crumbling and the unshed tears now crept down her cheeks and onto his wrists. He brought their lips together again for a kiss more heated than before. The salty tears mingled with their moist mouths, it added a tinge of suffering, longing, and pain to the obvious adoration that was fueling something… something more than just love. Four weeks of longing, of confusion, of doubt and of self-discovery melded into one defining moment. The kiss broke abruptly, "I love you—" he pecked her lips, "—so damn much."

"More…" her voice was hungry and needy and dripped with want.

Grissom's hands moved down her back, soothingly and around, down to her hips to hold her in place while he attacked her lips once more. There was an aggressive thrust of his tongue onto her lips, vying for access into her sweet, sweet mouth. The moan that reverberated from her throat and into his mouth sparked an even harder kiss, his hands instinctively clutched her hips harder to draw her to him.

Their bodies were flush together as he moved his kiss from her lips and to her cheek, where he paused. The tears were still coming, and even as part of him suspected they were from happiness, his self-doubt forced him to address them. "I'm so sorry, Sara," he told the tear and kissed it away. When another made its trek down her soft skin, he told it, "I'm sorry I left you."

"It was never about you leaving… I knew you had to." She paused, swallowed and continued, making sure she was being absolutely clear, "You just never _told_ me… you never told me what was so wrong that you _had_ to go."

She was right, he never told her why. He merely sprung his travel plans on her as they finished dinner one night, only days before he was due to arrive in Massachusetts. It was a cowardly move, but he felt as though he had no choice. He knew he wouldn't tell the team until the last minute, and he owed Sara a bit more than that. He just had no idea it would never be enough, not for her.

Exasperated, "I know. I didn't know how to say it so that it would make sense. I knew what was going on in my thoughts and in my nightmares, but I doubted I could explain it. I just needed to get away. And I knew it'd hurt the people I care about, the people I love…" he paused and looked away.

Sara studied his face. She would be lying if she said the sabbatical hadn't been good for him. He looked _better_, he looked like a man renewed. The lines in his face weren't as deep, the circles not so pronounced. He walked with a lighter step; he smiled and showed compassion where, in other times, he'd remain stoic and distant. Four weeks had changed the man she loved.

"Gil…"

"That's what the letters were for. Once I got to Massachusetts, I felt different. I felt like the things that haunted me, bad cases, politics… you… they all started making sense."

She was taken aback and slowly started putting some distance between their still meshed bodies. "I haunted you?"

"In a way, yes. You scare me, Sara… you scare me to death. Not because you're a strong woman, or because you carry a gun, or that you have a temper," he gave her a half-way quirky smile, "not any of that. I felt like you were too good for me, that I didn't deserve you, in any way, shape or form… and that I especially didn't deserve your love."

"And the letters were supposed to make this clear for me?" she questioned, her words laced with underlying anger.

"Well… yeah." Licking his lips, "I brought two things back with me from Williams: my desire to work, to find justice, to enjoy my job again and the realization that I can stop being haunted by you, and instead, I can be loved by you." Not wanting to take the chance that she'd back away even farther, he gathered her within his arms for a warm hug.

"I shouldn't accept that, you know. I deserve more… more than carefully thought out words and more than well-timed confessions," she all-but spat against his chest. "Gil, I deserve your honesty—"

"You have that."

"—your respect—"

"You have that too." Her head snapped up and she gave him a challenging glare. "Well, you do now."

She lowered her head to his chest once more. "I deserve to never be left again."

His grip around her tightened as he took in a deep breath. "Never again, Sara. Never again."

Long moments passed where they simply held each other, gently rocking and softly caressing. Soft caresses turned into gentle massaging, which soon turned into heated and purposeful groping. Though no tickling was involved, Sara started to giggle against his shirt. "So at what point did the intent of the letters go from informing me of your inner turmoil to _informing me of your inner turmoil_, so to speak…?"

"Ohh… I was wondering when you'd bring that up."

"Literally or figuratively?" she quipped.

He drew back and pursed his lips in a mock-scowl. When he decided to give Sara the letters, he knew that he wouldn't censor any of them and that she'd know everything about what he was thinking while he was away. _Everything_. "I don't know, really… I just know that I was lonely and I missed talking to you, saying the things I like to say to you when we're together…" He swooped down to nuzzle her neck.

"You've never said _some_ of those things out loud…" she chided.

He nipped at her neck and let his lips glide over the lithe muscles in her neck. "Would you like me to?"

She half-gasped and half-moaned when he sucked on a sensitive patch of skin. Rolling her neck to give him better access, she choked out "Maybe."

It was Grissom's turn to chuckle, allowing his newly grown facial hair to scratch slightly along her jaw. "That's what I thought."

"Actually," she claimed, "I don't think you know what I'm thinking… unless you're thinking that I'm thinking I want to _experience_ some of the things _written_ in your dirty letters, Griss."

He felt her smile more than he could see it. "That's _exactly_ what I was thinking, honey. And _I'm_ thinking there is too much _thinking _going on here and not enough..." he trailed off.

She wasn't going to let him off that easy. "Not enough… what?"

Grissom's mouth worked its way up to her ear, giving the lobe a quick lick. "Not enough… _fucking_, my dear."

If the shiver that racked her body was any indication of how much the simple dirty word affected her, he was in for a rather powerful evening. He slid his hands up under the hem of her shirt, grasping the fabric to lift it over her head. The black bra she wore was in sharp contrast to her pale, slightly freckled skin. He bent his head down to kiss a specific freckle that had been recently taunting him in his dreams, the one right above her left breast.

Sara reached around her back and thumbed the clasp of her bra open, allowing Grissom to remove the garment and have free access to her supported flesh. He took a taut nipple into his mouth, gently sucking, gently biting, and causing her to jut her chest out and closer to his face.

He knelt, unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down while he left sloppy, scratchy kisses on her stomach. "I missed you," he murmured to her belly, sliding her jeans and panties down her long legs.

"I know. I missed you too," she gasped as his kisses worked themselves down to her inner thighs. "I missed you so much…" He rubbed his beard along her thighs. "I missed _that_, but I think it needs to go."

"I thought you liked it?" he asked playfully, but didn't he give her a chance to respond as he drove his tongue into her warmth. He sucked and nibbled at the tender flesh, eliciting a deep moan from her. Her thighs quivered slightly from the sensations and from the cool air of her apartment.

"Griss…" she hissed and tipped her head back. "It's been too long… if you don't stop that, I'll…"

He pulled back slightly and peered up at her, "Maybe that's what I want."

Sara ran a hand through his hair, liking the way the slightly longer would-be curls felt against her fingers. Gesturing for him to stand up again, she stated, "Maybe that's not what _I_ want. I want you," she ran a finger down his lips, to his chin, "I want _this_," her hand traveled down to palm the hardness that tented his slacks, "and I want it, _right now_."

She gripped his hand and started to drag him to her bedroom. Her naked form bounced slightly as she stepped over a stray pair of shoes in her hallway, making him lick his lips and moan in appreciation. When she got to the bedroom door, she slowed to a stop and turned around. "Letting you fuck me won't change the fact that you screwed up, Gil."

"I know," he said, defeated. "I think we both need this, though. I think this might be a way to help me explain… everything. And I'm not just saying that to get you into bed, Sara. I just wanted you to know… I know things need to be fixed. And I'm more than willing to do the work."

"Fair enough," she nodded and nudged the door open with her hip. "I'm sure I'll appreciate your… efforts?" she asked with a teasing, but sultry tone.

"Oh, I'm sure you will," he grinned. Reaching up over his shoulders, he grabbed his shirt and yanked it over his head while Sara got to work on his slacks. She crouched down so that she was eye-level with his waist and admired the view.

"You look good, you've lost some weight?" she asked, standing back up and licking a trail from his belly button to his collar bone in the process.

"Probably… maybe." He couldn't think straight, not at the moment. She could have asked him the simplest of questions and he would have faltered. The sweet touches of her hands on his body, her lips on his skin were something bliss could only aspire to be.

"Mmm…" she hummed against his shoulder, kissing her way up to his ear. Giving the lobe a little tug with her teeth, she hissed out a lust-filled "…missssssed you…" while her hand found his hard length. She pumped him for a couple of strokes and led him to her bed. The backs of her knees met the comforter and she lowered herself down, taking Grissom with her and relishing in the feel of his weight on top of her body once more.

His hands had minds of their own as they stroked over her soft skin, tracing heated paths over her abdomen, the undersides of her breasts and down her sides to her hips. Her outline was burned into his head; the thought of her spread out like a feast fueled his thoughts when he wrote the letters. He closed his eyes and swallowed deeply, moving one of his hands off her hips to her moist center, dipping his thumb into the soft heat. The other hand instinctively reached for himself and stroked.

"Gah… Gil… look at me." His eyelids snapped open and lust-driven pupils greeted her. He continued touching her, touching himself. "I don't… this probably isn't the best time to say… I just… I love you too, you know." His actions slowed, nearly to a stop before she continued. "Always… forever."

He stared at her, all the while continuing his ministrations on her ever so slowly. It was tantalizing, the look he was giving her. He looked… _found_. Removing his hand from her body, he repositioned himself and dropped down to kiss her deeply. She could taste herself on his lips, his tongue as he slid into her with ease, pushing himself in to the hilt. Breaking the kiss, he moved slightly off of her lips and looked deep into her eyes. "Always," he puffed out as he started to move tantalizingly slow within her. Slow and shallow thrusts allowed him to continue making eye contact with her, allowing them to silently communicate.

_I'm sorry… I'll never do that to you again._

_I know. You never meant to hurt me. But you did._

_If I had my way, I'd never hurt you again, but I fear I will._

_I know that, too. But that's what makes you YOU._

"Gil… fuck!" she threw her head back. "Just fuck me…"

Grissom groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, quickening his pace and increasing the depth of his thrusts. Even after weeks of manual stimulation, he knew he wouldn't last long. And by the sounds emitting from Sara, he knew she wouldn't either. He reached for her hands, threaded his fingers with hers and pinned her down as he ground into her pelvis with his thrusts. "Not long…" he gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Come, just come…" was all she could manage before her walls clamped down on him, signaling her climax. The rhythmic pulsing of her orgasm sent a sharp message to his core, forcing the tightening in his belly before he exploded within her. A guttural groan seeped from his lips as they sought hers, kissing her deeply and thoroughly. His hot spurts filled her with a warmth that was lost during those lonely weeks, and suddenly, she felt _found _too.

He released one of her hands and rolled off her, to the side. Keeping one pair of hands together, he sighed and tried to get his heart rate back to normal levels. He could feel her pulse race against his own through their clasped hands. "You okay"?

"Yeah…" She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Are _we_ going to be okay?"

"I think so… as long as you meant what you said."

He turned his head to look at her and found her staring at the ceiling. "Which part?"

"Everything."

With his free hand, he gripped her far side and brought her flush against him. He gently turned her head so they were face to face once more. "Everything I said, I meant. I screwed up and I want to fix it. I don't want to hurt you anymore." He kissed her tenderly for a few moments, keeping his kisses light, but full of promise. "I _won't_ hurt you again, I love you too much."

"I know that…now"

Squeezing her hand, "And you'll know it forever."

**END**


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